


Sisterhood & Survival 101

by igrockspock



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Female Friendship, Gen, chosen family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyota flunks a simulation at the Academy, and Gaila's there for her.  After all, what are sisters for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sisterhood & Survival 101

**Author's Note:**

> Vintage fan fiction here! I was browsing old entries in my journal and found this in a private entry from 2010.

Nyota staggered down the hall toward her dorm room, trailing mud with every step. Normally, she would have taken her dirty boots off at the door and cast a disapproving eye at anyone who failed to do the same, but after four hours slithering through a rainforest on her belly, she needed all her energy just to get home. Absently, she rubbed the small, tender marks on her face, souvenirs of the sparks that had showered her when the communications array had exploded. Her arms and legs were covered with tiny scratches, stings, and small trails of blood left behind by leeches, but none of these things were the worst part of her day. What she could not get out of her mind was the scornful look on Admiral Sato's face.

"You were a _skirt_ for an away mission exercise?"

She had willed herself to look up into the Admiral's fierce eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. I knew it would be hot."

"And your tools?"

"I didn't bring any, ma'am. I thought it was a routine mission simulation."

She was proud of how she had kept her voice calm and professional, even though she knew what was coming next. It wasn't anything she hadn't thought herself.

"You didn't _think_ at all, Cadet. 'Routine' Starfleet missions are anything but. Your whole team depended on you to reach that communications array and make contact with the ship. By not thinking, you didn't just risk your life; you risked theirs too."

She had nodded dumbly, not daring to look at the six cadets behind her, who had all failed the mission because she had not come prepared. It wasn't fair, but that was Starfleet -- they lived and died together in the field, so they passed and failed together at the Academy. It was the best preparation they could have, and Nyota knew she couldn't argue against it. 

Now, as badly as she yearned for the solace of her dorm room, she paused for a moment outside the door. The privacy light wasn't on, which was a good sign, but then, Gaila's conception of privacy didn't exactly match hers. She liked her roommate, she really did, but these moments of hesitation outside the door wore on her. Sometimes she just needed a quiet space of her own, yet every time she came home, she had to steel herself for naked green flesh, peals of exuberant laughter, and quite often, the unexpected sight of an orgy. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door, automatically fixing her eyes on the floor.

"Gaila?" she called. No answer. Her eyes flicked toward the small basket next to the door. Empty. She let out the breath she had been holding. If Gaila was home, the basket would be full of clothes; she always stripped as soon as she stepped inside. 

Nyota leaned against the wall, shoulders slumping with relief. The silence and cool air enveloped her, and with every breath, she felt a little closer to peace. Slowly, she pealed away her boots and dirty stockings, simultaneously reveling at the feeling of air on her sweat-dampened toes and gagging at the stench of her unwashed feet. 

All right then, she thought, next stop is the shower. Only, she didn't think she could stand up that long. Right now, she could think of nothing more delicious than sleeping with cool sheets against her hot skin. She eyed the basket next to the door. Gaila had said that it was for both of them, but she had never used it before. She had never quite understood the appeal of striding around naked, especially in front of a woman she barely knew and couldn't quite call a friend. Now the basket felt like it belonged to Gaila alone, and she wasn't sure if it was still okay for her to use it. But then, that was good thing about Gaila: as annoying as she could be, she always forgave. Maybe sharing the basket would be a gesture of friendship, and if not, she would apologize.

Wincing, she raised her arms over her head and pulled off her shirt and undershirt in a single movement. Her abs, sore from her long crawl across the ground, screamed in protest, but tossing her clothes into the basket made her feel that much further from the day's ordeal. She shucked off her skirt and panties just as quickly and threw them on top of the rest of her clothes. Then she paused, frowning at the muddy pile. Was it bad manners to throw something so dirty inside? Gaila had never said so, but then, Nyota had been so vehement about wanting to be dressed that they had not discussed the finer points of clothes basket etiquette. She stared down at her bra, the only article of clothing she was still wearing. It was probably cleaner than everything else she had put in the basket, but the thin white cotton was still soaked with sweat. If throwing such dirty clothing into the basket was wrong, it was better to stop now. Besides, just the thought of reaching behind herself to unhook the bra made her arms ache. She staggered toward the bed, flopped on it face down, and fell asleep.

Hours later, she awoke to warm golden light, and the feeling of a soft, damp cloth stroking her swollen legs.

"You must've had an awful day," a familiar voice said, and Nyota gradually cracked her eyes open. When the world finally swam into focus, she saw a green, lace-covered hip on the bed beside her. 

"Gaila?" she asked, voice husky with sleep. "What are you doing?"

"Washing your legs," Gaila replied matter-of-factly, as if all roommates everywhere washed each other's legs, and the gesture required no further explanation. But some surprise must have shown on Nyota's face because Gaila's voice suddenly turned soft and serious.

"You looked like you needed help," she said, speaking slowly as if to emphasize her incredulity. "It's okay to let people take care of you sometimes. Why are you surprised that I did this?"

Nyota knew she would never be able to answer the question. The truth was, Gaila's kindness unnerved her. She and Gaila were acquaintances, not friends, and while Nyota had done as much as she could to be a good roommate, she had not earned this level of generosity. Yet, Gaila's kindness seemed to have no boundaries; she gave everything she could as if it were a matter of common sense. 

Luckily, Gaila did not seem to need an answer right then. Smiling brightly, she reached behind her and retrieved a small tube of ointment stamped with Starfleet Medical's insignia.

"Look," she said, brandishing the tube in the air. "Jim's roommate gave me something for all your stings. He said you should come to medical to get the stingers out, but this will stop them from hurting."

With that, Gaila unscrewed the cap and began rubbing the cream into the welts on Nyota's legs. At first, Nyota cringed at the pressure on her sensitive skin, but Gaila's fingers were gentle, and soon her legs began to tingle and cool.

"Thank you," Nyota said because, well, what else could she say? This was far more than she would have done for Gaila if their positions had been reversed, but Gaila had not even considered that before helping her. And Gaila had been right -- today, she did need the help.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Gaila asked. Another woman might have been trolling for gossip, but Nyota knew Gaila's question was sincere. If she wanted to talk, Gaila would listen, but if she wanted to keep it to herself, she knew her roommate would respect her silence. And she _was_ tempted to hold her tongue; she was the oldest of her five sisters, and she was used to people leaning on her rather than the other way around. But after how much Gaila had done for her, she deserved a little piece of the truth.

"I failed a mission simulation today," she said.

Gaila shrugged her shoulders.

"Doesn't everyone fail their first sim?"

"You didn't." Nyota hated herself for it, but she couldn't suppress a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Gaila's brilliant passing grades. She liked to be the best of whatever group she was in, even if that sometimes meant she competed with her friends.

Gaila's lips, still painted gold even this late in the day, twisted into a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I've been in survival situations before. You haven't. It's not a bad thing."

Nyota closed her eyes briefly to buy herself time to think. She still wasn't used to the casual way Gaila invoked her tragic past, and she never quite knew how to respond to it. But then, Gaila didn't want sympathy or consolation; her memories of slavery were as ordinary as Nyota's memories of her much more mundane childhood. If Gaila spoke about it casually, it was best to respond to it casually.

"So you're telling me survival is a skill and I'm going to learn it?"

Gaila nodded.

"It's like anything else. If you can separate yourself from your emotions for a little while, you can see clearly what you need to do. It even gets ordinary after awhile."

"Commander Spock would certainly approve of that philosophy."

Gaila nodded, looking contemplative.

"I think Vulcans have more in common with the rest of the galaxy than most of us would think."

She leaned back against the headboard then, her fingers twining absently in Nyota's hair.

"Thanks for letting me do this. It's so good to take care of people, you know?"

Nyota nodded and shifted slightly to let her head rest on Gaila's thigh. It _did_ feel good, even if it was a little odd to lounge in nothing but a dirty sports bra with her scantily clad roommate. To most outside observers, it probably looked like the beginning of a lesbian porn holo, but Nyota felt as if she was back home with her sisters. Not that she would _ever_ have allowed any of her little sisters to wear something as lacy and revealing as Gaila's lingerie, even under their clothes.

Gaila's fingers began twisting Nyota's hair into a complicated braid, and she sighed contentedly.

"I used to do this for my sisters all the time. I've missed it since I got here."

Nyota looked up inquiringly; she had never heard Gaila mention family before.

"You have sisters?" Automatically, she scanned the room for photos or holos she hadn't noticed before, but she saw only the same star charts and engine schematics.

Gaila's lips twisted into the same bemused smile Nyota had sometimes given her own sisters when they didn't know something she thought was common sense.

"Not sisters like yours." Her eyes flicked briefly to the holo Nyota kept on her bedside table, the one with all of her sisters piled on the bed. "They weren't my biological sisters. Well, I mean, I guess they could have been, but nobody really keeps track of stuff like that for girls like us."

"Oh." It was terrible response, especially for someone who commanded language as well as Nyota, but she had truly never considered a world where family was so valueless. But that wasn't right. Family mattered to many Orions; she knew that from her studies. What she hadn't considered before was a world where some people were so valueless that including them in a network of relations did not matter. She knew, of course, that sisterhood wasn't just biological. Some of her close friends back at home had almost felt like sisters. But there was that word -- almost. No matter how close, her friends were never the same as her sisters. Friends could go. Friends didn't have to forgive. But she knew her sisters always would.

Gaila slid a fingernail lightly across Nyota's scalp, parting the hair for a second braid.

"It wasn't as bad as you imagine. I mean, you can't really miss what you never had. Who needs shared genetic code to call someone a sister?"

The next morning, Nyota slipped an image of Gaila into the holo of her sisters. They never spoke about it, but from that day forward, Nyota started telling people she had five sisters.

"I was _sure_ you said you had four sisters," Jim Kirk insisted one day.

Nyota contemplated a sarcastic response, but then she shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "Guess I was wrong. Who needs shared genetic code to call someone a sister?"


End file.
